The Curvy L

Finding and falling in love with my definition of greatness.

Not A Care In the World

So many times I have been the victim of the accusation of having my life together.

Ummm…where?

My current guilty pleasure is sitting in front of my fan legs spread wide, right after my shower because that’s the only time I won’t be sweating and fucking hot.

My kids are amazing in public, but I yell at them every day for the same shit.

I am counting down the days they leave my house, I can’t wait.

I just took a swig out of the Grey Goose bottle at 4pm..

…..4 PM!

My life isn’t together AT ALL!

I haven’t combed my hair in days, and I don’t care.

Every single mantra I have for living in the moment and respecting the journey can all go somewhere and die because I can’t.

I can’t adult.

I can’t people.

I can’t breathe.

I can’t exist.

Seriously, I CAN’T.

I can’t even have a period right.

That’s right, I have somehow been living the last four months with no period.

The doctors can’t figure it out either, so yea.

I am doing my therapy….I lay on the couch and just look at him menacingly because I can’t speak.

I am obviously going through some sort of transformation again,

so I’m losing my shit again, like I always do every fucking year.

I can’t even feel things deeply anymore, I think I’ve broken my feeler.

I have scrolled by so many ugly things on Facebook I am numb to it all.

I used to get so invested in others problems, I couldn’t help it.

But now?

I scroll through that shit like I’m spinning the wheel on the Price is Right.

I just don’t feel like I used to.

I mean I still care but I don’t cry about anything anymore.

Although, I might cry right now because this is kinda sad.

*couldn’t even fake a tear…shrugs*

SO now what do I do with all of my unfeeling?

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Sigh, I don’t know….imma tell my therapist and see what he says.

I’m sure I won’t even care anyway

Probably Not a Love Child

If you’ve never had a day that was fueled by the deep procrastination of months not checking to see why your period is late, congratulations.

This isn’t some super hot scandalous love affair that might have produced a love a child. No, nothing like that.

This is a ….

I’m probably dying crisis because my tubes are tied and have been for almost 13 years. For some reason I haven’t had my period since the end of March and no amount of wishing is make it happen.

I have wanted to be pregnant since that day 13 years ago I stupidly ( it was for the best…maybe…I think…I’m undecided) signed up to be sterilized.

I seriously think I was too young for the decision.

Anyway, I had it, I’m sterile now…baby maker is shut off and D, the other party in the baby making process, say it’s forever.

He was once on board but apparently my 11 years of not saying let’s go, swayed him.

Sooo no baby for us.

This never stops me from willing magic to happen on its own. The no period would have normally made me happy and hopeful. Except now I’m just scared shit-less that my maybe baby is going to be born drunk.

Like, is that a thing? I don’t even want to think about it.

But I am, and in my head my pretend maybe baby is going to need a 12 step program and lots of therapy and it will all be my fault. So yea, that’s what’s going on with me, and this is what someone who’s a hot mess looks like. Big procrastination brows, clothes that scream pajamas maybe, with a pair of shoes that say “This is an actual outfit and I maybe showered.” So I’m off to the doctor to seek the professional help that I obviously need, wish me luck.

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ps. All of these clothes came from my piles of clothes on the floor that passed the smell test.

Owning MY Body

My body changes,

Bigger,

Smaller,

Bigger,

Slower,

Stronger,

Weaker,

Tired.

 

This body has created life three times, transformed more times than it hasn’t.

It’s always…..different.

It’s mine though. I own this body, I control it to a certain extent but even when it’s out of control I always own it. I govern it. I punish it, and I’m learning to always love it.

Change

I love it because it has created life three times, it has held me up always.  Together we navigate life, we figure out what’s best for us. We block the hate that says we shouldn’t be together.

All we have is each other.

She never gives up on me even when I shut her out, we have an unconditional love.

Change.

Change is always happening.

I will always do what I feel is right for you because my choice will always be the right choice, there’s no other idea that matters. Not when it comes to MY body.

We are an us ALWAYS.

Ups,

downs,

depression,

joy,

DARK,

light.

I’ll love you forever, I promise.

 

“Life is too short to worry about whether your standards or morals matter to anyone else.

Make your life matter to you. Live in the skin you’re comfortable in. Take no shit.” -Theresa Lollis

The Curvy L

Today I woke up and decided to take my identity back. Before this day I felt like I had to change everything to wash it away, I wanted a brand new me and on the internet all I had to do was give myself a new social media name and delete my old blog…or rather stop using it.

That was easy, but it wasn’t.

People always say that you aren’t your past, yada yada…and maybe that’s true but your past shapes who you are.

I wasn’t a bad person and I didn’t do anything wrong so I’m not going to be the one to change all of my things around.

Just, fuck that…NO.

Art work done byMelinda Wilson Pietrusza
Art work done by Melinda Wilson Pietrusza

So today I decided that I will in fact keep my blog and everything that goes with it because it’s mine and it’s me and because I fucking can.

I will…

Write what I want when I want.

No more ducking my head in the sand and doing the “proper” thing.

So with no apologies at all, here I am, all of me…if you don’t like I don’t care because I do.

Hello there, I am Theresa Lollis AKA The Curvy L!

Push Your Feelings Way Down It Helps.

I want to feel better right now, not tomorrow. I am the queen of instant gratification, I’ve mastered the concept of dealing.

By dealing I mean, take whatever problem I have turn into a tasty treat and eat it, and keep doing it until I can’t feel anything anymore.

The remaining stray feelings left hanging around I push them deep down in a hole so they are never remembered.

I send them to feelings purgatory because seriously, sometimes it’s just too much to deal with.

People who have harmed me are dead to me, I forget them on purpose, I never speak of them again.

I avoid places they frequent, tear up photos and remove all memorabilia from my life. Get rid of all evidence….conceal don’t feel….

Source: Internet
Source: Internet

This handy dandy super power is the product of my childhood, I’m kinda like Jean Grey, not really, but in my mind *cough*.

Not dealing with your problems only causes….more problems. Just because they’re secret does not mean they aren’t there.

Out of sight out of mind isn’t a thing when we’re talking internal pain. Just because the rest of the world doesn’t know, doesn’t mean things are solved.

On my path to shoving feelings down I arrived at the place of now what?

Obviously, what I was doing wasn’t working so it was time for something new.

What would happen if I learned from the pain? Maybe took some time to lean into it and feel it?

Healing.

The sweet relief of healing is what happened, I was surprised.

It’s not the easiest or fastest way because feelings sometimes are shitty and healing isn’t a right now kind of thing.

There’s no instant gratification with this, it just is what it is, and whatever it is, its gonna take time.

Through your healing be kind to yourself, you deserve the very best treatment you have to offer.

Realizing Control

I remember sitting in this meeting with my grandma it was a weight-loss tea thing. I was probably in the third grade and I remember wanting to try the tea but I couldn’t because it was too expensive.

Which is crazy because if she had the money she probably would have started me on my own regimen. I’ve been being stuffed into girdles since the beginning of time….okay since around first grade. I’ve always hated them….I hated the discussion of how fat I was and what changes I needed to make to my chubby body.

The irony in all of that is that almost every woman adult that I knew was over weight and I thought they were all beautiful.

 

There was always some sort of discussion which felt as abusive as the constant sexual assault that I endured. No wonder I grew up with body image issues. I always had someone telling me I was pretty, sexy, and that I was too fat.

That combination had me feeling as if pretty was a curse, as in if I wasn’t so pretty maybe I wouldn’t be molested. If I wasn’t so fat then maybe I could be loved more? Everything always felt so out of my control, always at the mercy of whoever was in charge. Over the past three years or so I’ve been learning what it means to take charge of….well everything.

Feelings.

Destiny.

Self worth.

ME.

Theresa for mag

 

 

Anyway, I get to pick what my life looks like, I get to pick what I look like. I get to pick the people in my life and if I don’t like someone I can cut them out of it. I don’t owe anyone anything, period. I’ve got time to explore everything about me, so, that’s what I’m going to do. I am making no promises other than to try, and rock the fuck out of the life I have left.

The Struggle Bus and Soggy Bottoms

10 AM wake up on a Sunday isn’t a bad thing, I mean that’s considered sleeping in by some….okay by most.

Not if you went to sleep at like 6 AM, thank you insomnia, you make my world shiny and new.

Since we’ve been here at the new place just about every weekend we travel somewhere for work or for a day trip, mostly work, fun work, but work none the less.

Let’s take our trip down the time line…

9:36 AM: I start doing my makeup, I can’t find anything, the kids are having a crisis…..there’s no way I’m going to finish my makeup, I pack my makeup bag so that I can finish it in the car.

11:45 AM: We finally leave, and thank the lord because, seriously D we need to fucking go or we’re going to be late and I’m starving to death….I’m weak….I have blurry vision….I AM GOING TO DIE.

12:14 PM: *I don’t really know what time at this point because I’m too hungry to keep score on all the ways D is failing me at this point* We finally get some food, I order something bad for me I shouldn’t be having and we drive away…..OMGGGG they forgot my food and the straws….so now I’m going to starve AND my lipstick is going to be messed up.

12:30 PM: I board the every thing is against me struggle bus and adopt the motto why does everything hate me.

12:30-2:30 PM: I finish my makeup, I starve, I complain, starve some more….get on everyone’s last nerve.

2:30PM: We arrive at the Agora Borealis for the meeting (check out the store it’s AMAZING). So, I have gained some weight and I needed to put on my boots which hate me because they don’t want to zip up.D helps me, finally, and we get them up. Inside I’m hating the world, mostly my extra fat calves and the sweat on my nose because it’s fucking up my makeup.

Meeting goes well, really well, my designer (Von Ray check them out! ) fits me and Chervonne and it’s all great. I learn a little about the dress, I won’t tell you here because it’s going to be AMAZING.

*Spoiler Alert….I don’t have to wear shoes so I’m probably not going to fall and die, let’s all celebrate!**

4:00 -ish PM: We finally leave after perusing Agora Borealis, I bought a wand, it’s gorgeous.

4:30 pm: I get some food, FINALLY! I love everyone again, YAY!!!

5:00 PM: I reap what I sow. I had to pee really bad so we stop, and we stop at a gas station with the grosses bathroom that has ever existed, in life…..

So I decide I’m going to squat….this is where everything gets soggy. So I am peeing and my fat thighs are kinda touching, I’m trying to hold my pants so they don’t touch this toilet….

Catastrophe happens because THEN I started peeing down my leg….down my leg on my jeans. Now I’m in this nasty ass bathroom with pee coming down my leg, and I’m asking myself why….why do bad things happen to good people?

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Eventually I stop peeing and clean myself up as best as I can. I go to wash my hands and OMG there’s some kind of fucked up texture growing on the sink….I still wash my hands folks, I’m not a heathen.

I tell everyone in the car the story, they laugh and judge me….

The moral of the story is that when you’re a Negative Nancy you pee on your leg and you have to wash your hands in a fungus sink. It’s better to just find your happy and spread that around.

 

Therapy…..meh…

I’m late, my makeup is on point….and the only thing that really means is that it will melt off because I’m nervous as fuck.
I want to prepare myself for every type of mishap that might happen, any and everything that will send me to the dark place, the place of despair….
The place where I will spend 2 or 3 days in the bottom of my shower asking over and over “Why ME???”
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I finally strapped on a pair and made myself an appointment, it’s been almost 7 months since I’ve had any medical treatment.
I haven’t really wanted to be bothered since my last doctor died, dude I didn’t kill him.
Anyway, I miss him, I miss my therapist and my routine and I hate new things….
I hate the questionnaire….. the litmus test that determines how crazy you are.
I think of things in pictures, if that makes sense and I hate to be asked questions.
You might as well stick me a hot box and shine a light in my face.
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Bring on the good cop bad cop routine…..all of this shit is in my head btw….there’s only me….
Me and the computer and the little bubbles….A,B,C,D or all of the above.
Have you tried to kill yourself lately?
Do you like to drink?
Are you on drugs?
Do you eat green eggs and ham?
Have you ever thought about eating green eggs and ham?
If so was it last Tuesday?
Do you talk to yourself?
Do you want to hurt anyone?
Well not until I sat down to answer all these fucking questions.
You never know what your new doctor will be like….will they be nice and understanding or will they sit across from you behind a clip board and basically say….well this is all in your head crazy person, you’re fine.
no
I mean I would love to be fine, I’ve been trying to convince myself for 7 months that I can actually control all of this on my own. That was a fucking lie.
50lbs and a HUGE fear of leaving my house later….I’m a fluffy heap of panic, whimsical joy.
I am happy to report that my new therapist seems pretty cool, not overly judgey.
The only thing is that they don’t have is a candy man on staff,
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which means I’m SOL as far as medication for the time being and I’m going to need to go somewhere else to get it. It’s really HARD to get help, it’s going to take some serious effort on my part.
I’m willing to do what it takes, and of course my family and friends have my back. I’ve got a neat little online community to lean on too.
I had a moment in the dark a while back, but I haven’t visited that shitty place in a long while and the visit was short lived. The coping skills I’ve learned these last two years have proven invaluable.
When you move, things are new, life changes and goes on….nothing stays the same.
So with that, thank you so much Dr. Ripley for all that you taught me, I will never forget you.
.

How are you doing?

*Taps mic*

Hello, is umm, is anybody there?

I’m here, I don’t really know where I am but I’m here, and I’m happy about it.

Thing is, I have A LOT to say but I don’t know how to say it. It’s not that I’m searching for the words to be proper, but I am.

I don’t want to be offensive, but I do, I don’t want to be sad, but I am.

At the same time I’m happy, I’m coming up for air….I’m gulping oxygen…but I’m choking kinda on what I was drowning from….lessons.

Life lessons.

They’re bitter, sour, and at the same time sweet….they are giving me life.

I am having the hardest time, moving out of my past.

Have you ever almost been done with something but then there’s traces of things like everywhere? You can’t’ really run from it, I mean, it is what it is.

It happened.

So when old friends ask how have you been doing, I reply with “Good!” That’s the equivalent of saying “whatever you want to eat.” or “You pick.”

It’s the bunkest response to give…it’s surface and that’s it.

I’m not that surface, what happened to the let it all hang out and be vulnerable me?

She’s not really locked up but she’s not really front and center either. I mean, she looks like me and sounds like me but she doesn’t quite feel like me.

I totally want to be like, this is how you get out of this and be FREE but I’m going to keep shit real, I don’t have a fucking clue what to do about it. I don’t know when she will return.

I have these intentions, it will take this many months to heal completely and pop my motherfucking collar.

The collar has not been popped. I’m standing tall, got my posture together, no trace on the outside of went down….what’s done is done.

I want it to be done, it’s not done.

I’ve discovered my self worth, I wave that flag and all it’s realness, it’s mine and no one will ever take it from me.

Now that part I got down, I’m 100% sure that I am better off….being better off doesn’t always feel so great.

Does that make sense?

How you can miss some seriously fucked up shit, chaos?

I’ve got scars, deep ones….wounds almost healed, but the scars they’re always going to be there.

They say you aren’t your past, but your past is a big part of why you do the things you do.

I don’t want to be shut down, or maybe I do, just a little?

So the answer to the question, “How are you doing?”

I am making it, I am doing life to the best of my ability. I’m not dusting dirt off my face anymore.

I am meeting new people and making friends in the right now, I am careful as I can be, I am learning to trust myself and own my okayness.

I am accepting my brand of normal….whatever that is.

I am bruised but not broken.

I am working on it.

** I read somewhere that Adele wrote this song for herself, yea I am feeling that right now.**

 

Claim who you are.

There are moments in time when our off spring will do something and it will make us feel 10ft tall, like we have done some great thing by being the vessel that was chosen to bring that tiny human into the world.

My days are often filled with those moments because I feel like I don’t quite know who I need to be, well I do, but at the same time I don’t. I am falling more in love with the journey to my purpose every day.

So, today Chervonne came up to me and said “look, Mommy, my tattoos!”

They had taken a little bit of my washi tape and created a doodle and wrote out on separate pieces of tape….Transgender and Pansexual.

Transgender.

Pansexual.

A quick capture of  my oldest Chervonne.
A quick capture of my oldest Chervonne.

I looked and thought, wow this is so fucking cool, we must take a picture of this, freeze this moment….I need to do that more.

Chervonne does these kinds of things often, always staking their claim on who they are, I admire that.

I don’t know if they quite get it yet on how big of a deal this is, and maybe it will never be to them because this is all they have ever known….be who you are and be proud of that….whatever it is….because we are.

We love you no matter what and for those that don’t, they don’t really matter……not in our world anyway.

Dear Chervonne, you changed my life when you came into my world, I knew I would always be different because of it, because you made me a mom.

I had NO idea how much you would truly change everything, my view, my love….my life.

Be bold baby, always be you….keep showing up for the others, keep being a voice, keep learning….and just keep teaching us.

Love you always and forever….

-Mommy

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